


Absolution

by Karios



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: In a universe where the 'you can't cross your own timeline' rule no longer exists, Garcia Flynn celebrates Christmas and finally gets his absolution.Lucy gets a few gifts of her own.





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ultra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/gifts).



> Ultra,
> 
> I promise that every part of this fic was driven by your prompt and that I didn't intend to ignore your request for uncomplicated fluff, but I think this fic may be sadder in places than you were hoping for. I wouldn't have gifted it to you if I didn't genuinely believe as I do that you will love it anyway. That said, there are scenes where everyone is in tears, and I understand if you aren't up for reading that at the moment. 
> 
> If not, feel free to skip down to read just the section that starts "And because it was Christmas" and bask in the fluffy hard-won ending.

The fight against Rittenhouse had cost every member of the Time Team. They all stood around the bunker, lost in their own bubble of pain and regret. The fight that had consumed them was gone, taking pieces of each of them with it, literally and figuratively.

The room didn't look a like a victory party. Their period costumes were rumpled and torn, Flynn looked around and saw he and Wyatt were caked with mud, Rufus looked barely able to stand, Jiya clung to Rufus as though he'd fade away the second she let go. Lucy might have looked the most bedraggled of all, her updo full of twigs and leaves, a chunk of her dress completely missing.

Soon, they’d debrief and go off to wash and change and this would finally be over.

He met Lucy’s gaze from across the room, and suddenly no matter how glad he was to have put the death knell in Rittenhouse, having it all be over was a lot less appealing than it should have been.

Flynn decided to make a quick circuit of the assembled long faces, to say his goodbyes.

Jiya hugged him. Rufus, to his surprise, shook his hand and said, “Just glad you weren't the one to kill me, man.”

“Me too, Rufus.”

Mason waved and bid Flynn a “See you in hell” that felt oddly appropriate.

Stepping in front of Wyatt, he said, “Logan, thank you for making me only the second most desperate widower in our little group.”

Wyatt’s answering smile was sardonic. “Thank you for making me the second biggest bastard.”

Flynn moved on toward Lucy, only for Agent Christopher to step into his path. She slipped him a scrap of paper. “Friday 10 AM?” he sputtered. “Further orders?”

She shook her head once. “No, you’re still free to go. That's,” she indicated the note, “a reward. Worth showing up for.”

“There's nothing you can give me,” he said.

She looked nearly as tired as he felt. “Just come, Garcia.” 

She spun on her heel, and went over to have what Flynn could only assume was a similar conversation with Lucy.

As Agent Christopher moved away from Lucy again, Flynn thought he could speak with Lucy, whose goodbye he'd been saving for last. He moved in closer to her, only for Lucy to wave her slip at him. 

“I'll see you Friday,” she said, too quickly, then slipped past him, and bolted for the wardrobe room.

-

When he arrived at the bunker, he found Agent Christopher standing in front of the Lifeboat and Lucy off to one side. Lucy looked closer to the meek historian he'd first met, the one convinced they were on different sides, than the badass future warrior of time and space. He was glad to know that something of pre-Rittenhouse Lucy was still in there. Selfishly glad, because he was sorry for his part in making her world-weary and sharpening her edges.

He blinked twice as though he expected the scene to change: where was his consolation prize? Then he finally admitted, “I don't understand.”

Agent Christopher stepped forward and explained, “I'm offering everyone one trip. Now that Fuller at PQL was able to mitigate the side effects of crossing your own timeline, there are no rules. But, if you decide to stay, if you don't bring the Lifeboat back, Lucy won't get to go.”

“I'm last,” Lucy said, and he thought maybe she went on to explain what the others had chosen for their trips, as he caught a handful of words, “Rufus”, “Wyatt”, “Grandpa”, but it was hard to pay attention because of the way blood rushed in his ears and his knees threatened to buckle. By the time Lucy had fallen silent, he'd recovered, taking long purposeful strides toward the Lifeboat. Its name had never felt so apt.

“Where are you going?” Lucy asked, all but running after him to keep up. 

“Christmas,” he said as he reached the steps. “I missed Christmas, their last Christmas, and now I don't have to.”

He ducked through the door of the Lifeboat. He heard “I'm going with him” only seconds before Lucy appeared in the doorway. 

Without Lucy with him, it would be so easy to not leave. To pretend the present held nothing for him. To do something, perhaps, monumentally stupid. And yet, without Lucy there, Flynn wasn't sure he’d find the courage to face Lorena at all. He needed Lucy, her understanding, her near-infuriating ability to do the right thing. So, he waved her in, even as he said, “You don't have to do this.” 

He busied himself with firing up the machine so he didn't have to look at her. So it came as a surprise when her hand settled on top of his. “I want to.”

That settled it. Lucy shut the door. They took their places, and buckled in. Flynn barely had to concentrate to fly, hardly noticed the way the ship rattled, or his stomach rolled. Flynn complimented himself on the landing; he’d parked in a field with enough cover and far enough out from his residental neighboorhood that the Lifeboat was unlikely to be discovered, but not so far it required they hot-wire a car. They trudged along the blocks toward his home in silence. Lucy didn't ask when they were, or why he'd missed Christmas, or anything else, even though he could practically hear her thinking.

The silence, punctuated only by their footsteps and the puff of their combined breathing, was slowly driving him crazy. He wanted Lucy to encourage him, or warn him off, to say something that would help. And he wondered when the hell he’d started needing Lucy Preston’s approval to do anything.

His mind supplied a few not-so-helpful suggestions, which he pushed away. The irritation that buzzed in his veins boiled over when he caught Lucy staring. “What?” he snapped.

Lucy flinched at the sharpness in his tone, but only faltered a step before asking, “Do you have a plan?”

“I'm going to watch my daughter open her presents; I'm going to make pancakes for breakfast; and I'm going to make love to my wife.” In light of everything that had gone on with Logan alone, that was cruel to her. Never mind that he had just verbally trampled over whatever was going on between them now. 

Lucy kept walking even as she passed him, crunching steadily forward.

“That was wrong of me.” He stopped walking, his jaw working back and forth.

Lucy waved the apology off. “I've had some experience dating men whose wives are back from the dead.” She spun to face him. “Still coming?”

That shut him up, and his feet obeyed him again.

A handful more of nearly silent minutes later, they arrived at his own front door. The doorbell chimed a few bars of “O Christmas Tree” and then Lorena opened the door. 

Flynn could only stare at her. He had forgotten how to breathe, let alone how to speak. Lorena threw her arms around his neck anyway. She smelled of powder and pine and a tang of something sweet, and all he could think as he breathed in deep was that his memory had gotten even this wrong.

His eyes stung as she pulled back, tears already threatening at the corners. “Garcia, you said you couldn't come home! Best Christmas surprise ever. And who is this?” Lorena turned and embraced Lucy, and something about watching his late wife enthusiastically hug the newest most important woman in his life finally unstuck his tongue.

“Lucy Preston,” Lucy introduced herself before he could.

“She brought me home to you,” he told Lorena.

“Then I can't thank you enough. Come in, come in.” She stepped back inside the warm house, ushering them both inside with a wave.

Lucy shucked her overcoat as his daughter came barreling toward them in a blur of red and white and curls. “Daddy!” she cheered, flinging herself at Flynn’s shins. 

He bent down, scooping her into his arms, and spinning her around and around until she squealed with laughter. “Iris, my Iris.” He hugged her tightly to his chest. The tears he had managed to keep at bay until now spilled freely down his cheeks.

“Daddy. Why sad?” Her chubby fingers swiped the tears escaping down the sides of his face.

“Not sad, Iris,” he lied, stretching his mouth into a grin. “Just happy to be home.”

Once Flynn managed to set Iris down again, she launched a second round of hugs that included Lucy. After that, Lorena asked if she could get them anything and the trio of adults settled down on the sofa with their mugs.

They drank rich coffee and watched his little girl tear enthusiastically into the sea of presents before her, sometimes tackling a box in each hand at the same time. He had meant to watch Iris intently, to store enough happy memories to write over the ones that plagued his brain, but everything about his home caught his attention. All the little details, from the photographs on the walls to the decorations to even the dents on the couch felt wondrous with the knowledge that he wouldn’t see them again.

Lorena must have noticed something amiss too, as she remarked, “Either you have seen more horrors than I thought possible or you are too old to be my Garcia.” 

She was kidding, obviously. All she meant was that he looked a bit ragged. She was wondering if the mission her Garcia–a few years and yet a lifetime younger than he was–was on had been particularly challenging.

“Both.” Garcia sighed, every bit of him deflating. “Would you believe I'm here from a future where you're already gone, desperate for one last Christmas together?” 

The truth spilled from his lips easily, despite the fact that he hadn't meant to tell her like this. He had intended to impersonate himself a while longer, soak in much joy as he could.

“From you, Garcia, I would believe anything,” Lorena said, trailing the back of her hand along his jawline. 

“I'm serious,” he insisted, his voice breaking. “You're going to...”

Lorena leaned in, and set a finger to his lips, stemming the flow of words. “You're going to frighten Iris.” 

“But,” he started.

“Later, after breakfast.” She turned her attention back to their daughter’s squeals of delight.

-

Lucy watched as Garcia bustled about his kitchen, mixing batter, heating oil. It looked so normal that she could almost forget why they were here. But every now and then, his eyes would meet hers, and the mask slipped, and she knew he needed her. Lucy was glad she’d come.

Lorena engaged her in conversation, about her own family and history and teaching, and Lucy answered in half-truths, asking several questions of her own. 

“Breakfast is served!” Garcia called.

“Help Iris wash up, darling,” Lorena said, watching her family fondly. Once their backs were turned, and the running water obscured conversation, only then did she ask: “Do you love him as much as he loves you?”

Lucy's mouth dropped open. She couldn't be having this conversation. “He doesn't,” she began, but Lorena cut her off.

“That's not what I asked.”

Caught, she confessed, “I do.” Lucy was pretty sure her cheeks glowed brighter than the Christmas tree.

“Good. He’s too young to spend the rest of his life alone, and I like you.” Lorena got up before Lucy's brain managed to form a reply.

Breakfast was quick and conversation revolved around replying to Iris’s chatter, all serious talk put aside. Lucy’s head spun with the idea that Lorena had given her her blessing. How could anyone hope to compete with love like that? 

After the dishes were cleared, Lorena took Flynn’s hand, hauling him off to their bedroom to finish their private conversation. From the off to the gallows look he shot Lucy, she could guess it was not to be the romantic reunion he'd anticipated. She didn't think they expected her to watch Iris, but the alternative, going to wait alone in the Lifeboat with nothing but her swirling thoughts seemed horrible.

So, Lucy attended a tea party with Iris, her new bear, and a pair of baby dolls. Then they alternated between reading and building a Lego city until Iris slumped over in post Christmas haze. Lucy swiped a clear circle in the debris around the tot and covered Iris with her blanket. Then Lucy let herself out, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She meandered her way back toward the Lifeboat, debating seriously about what she could do if Flynn decided to stay here and wait out until that day. She wouldn't blame him for trying, and it would only take two more years after that for the trips to start and she'd be free to slot into any life she wanted.

She folded her arms and crumpled in on herself, feeling colder than she should have been, when the question of what that life might look like now had no immediate answers.

She was just considering giving up and going to find somewhere else to wait, preferably warm and indoors, when the hunched figure of Garcia Flynn appeared in the distance.

Though his posture screamed defeat long before he reached her side, it was only up close that she could see his red, swollen eyes.

“Let's stay,” she said, her tone soft.

“I promised I'd walk away.” Lucy's heart ached, as she knew the words weren't for her benefit.

“The Lifeboat seats four now,” she reminded him.

“She said 'no’.” The words weren't sharp or loud, barely above a whisper, but they cut through the air and stabbed Lucy through the heart all the same.

Flynn escaped up the stairs and Lucy followed, trying to find anything more adequate to say than “I'm sorry”.

As it turned out, she didn't need to say anything, Flynn pivoted to face her, took a single step, and crumpled into her arms. “She said 'no’,” he repeated, and an animalistic howl clawed its way up his throat.

Lucy wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as he sobbed it out, soaking the front of her sweater. She wished she could absorb his grief alongside his tears, bear the weight of his burdens as well as his body. She slid her hands up, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back. 

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, desperately clinging to one another, but eventually Flynn straightened up and pulled away. Lucy brought an arm around to swipe furiously at her eyes with a sleeve.

“Please, tell me you have somewhere you want to go,” Flynn said.

Lucy hadn't been sure, but the trip had made up her mind. In all of time and space, there was only one person Lucy needed right now.

“Yeah, I do. December 31st, 1978. Berkeley, California.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow.

“I need to hug my daddy.”

“You want to see Cahill?”

“No, Henry Wallace.”

-

They found the house party the young Henry Wallace was attending by sheer dumb luck.

“Luck doesn't have to be smart to be good,” said Flynn.

It took more work to plant Lucy next to him at the party to ensure she got her hug when the clock struck twelve.

Flynn spent the entire night convinced Cahill would figure them out, gun them all down somehow, but Lucy got her hug unimpeded.

In the end, Flynn drew his gun anyway, very, very discreetly, as he made his way into the house and weaved through the throngs of drunken, dancing college students to collect Lucy.

Flynn tugged Lucy a step back. “Time to go,” he said.

Her eyes landed on the gun and narrowed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing? Kidnapping your father.”

“Why?” asked Lucy.

“Her father? This bunny's like a decade older than me, man,” protested Henry.

“Sit on it, Henry.” To Lucy he added, “So you can tell him the truth.”

“This is crazy.”

Flynn shrugged with the arm not aiming the gun at Henry. “Isn't it worth a try?”

So Lucy let Flynn lead the way until they stopped in someone else’s darkened front yard. While it wasn’t exactly private, passersby were either too wrapped up in their celebrations or too drunk to pay any attention to the three of them, and it was the closest they could manage to getting Henry alone. Flynn dragged over a plastic lawn chair. “Sit.” He ordered Henry.

Henry sat down, and turned to look at Lucy. “Is he gonna shoot me?”

“No,” said Lucy.

“Not if you hear the lady out,” amended Flynn with a predatory grin.

“I can't take you anywhere.” Lucy grumbled, as she dragged a second chair over to sit next to her father. “Now, Henry, I'm sorry about all this. I just,” she stopped short and glanced up at Flynn, who nodded encouragingly. “I'm from the future, and I’ve got a story to tell you.”

And then she talked, not just about Carol, or Amy, or Rittenhouse, who as it turned out had already been to see him, but about shooting a man and betrayal and being locked in a coffin, and on, and on.

The conversation became a confessional and Henry Wallace was her priest. Flynn could see the father he must have been or might someday yet become in the way he listened, until Lucy talked herself out of words.

Henry whistled low. “I'm sorry, but this is Cuckoo’s Nest level loony.”

“I know, I...” Lucy floundered for a moment. “I just...thank you.”

“For what it's worth, if I did have a daughter, I'd like her to be like you.”

Lucy blew out a shaky breath. “Thanks.”

Henry dug a crumpled napkin out of a pocket and offered it to Lucy, who blew her nose.

“Can I go now?” he asked.

“Yes. Run along now.” Flynn made a shooing motion. Henry jumped up from the chair and, in the language of the day, booked it.

Flynn set a hand on Lucy shoulder, drawing the chill from her skin and lending silent support until his touch stilled the adrenaline tremor that shook her frame.

“Better?” he asked after a moment.

She nodded and he drew his hand back.

“Be right back then.” He headed down the street and returned with two cans of soda he'd liberated from someone's cooler. 

He took a seat in the newly vacant plastic chair and handed a soda over to Lucy. “I could use something stronger,” she complained.

“So could I. Take pity on the designated flier.”

The bad joke earned Flynn a wobbly smile. It didn’t last. “What the hell do we do now?”

“The Lifeboat won't be charged for –”

“Not now, now. I mean, now.” She spread her hands in front of her and Flynn knew what she meant.

“Well I got this far by trusting Lucy Preston, but we've gone off book. We're on our own now. So as a wise woman once told me, we find something to fight for.”

Lucy chuckled. “I got that advice from Wyatt.”

“I'm quoting Logan?” Exaggerated disdain spread over his face. “Everything we've done today and that, that might kill me.”

She gave him a shove. Then they fell quiet, sipping their sodas and staring off into the middle distance.

Lucy was the one to break the silence. “So, how insane did I sound?” 

“With Wallace? Completely.” A beat of silence. “No more than I did to Lorena.”

Lucy disagreed, “I'm a stranger to him. Lorena loved you.”

“I think, perhaps, too much. She shouldn't have forgiven me. Neither should you.”

“Too late.” Lucy's voice was small, hesitant. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They leaned against each other. “Time to go home,” Lucy said finally.

“Home. Wherever the hell that is.”

-

And because it was Christmas, the day of impossible miracles, there was someone else standing next to Agent Christopher when the Lifeboat landed. They'd done it, Flynn thought, breaking out into a wide grin. Lucy beamed back at him, and it was all unquestionably worth it. One glimpse at that head of auburn hair had Lucy racing down the steps. She dived into her sister's arms. “Amy!”

Amy let out an "oof" as she wrapped her arms around Lucy. “Only saw you this morning.”

Lucy pulled back to hold Amy at arm's length, pressing kisses to her cheeks, running her hands down her arms. “It's been a bit longer for me.”

Amy waved from behind Lucy at Flynn. 

“Amy Preston, I take it,” Flynn said, and Lucy scooted out of the way to let him say hello. Flynn bent to kiss Amy's fingers like the cover of a romance novel.

“Amy this is –”

“With any luck, your new brother-in-law.” Flynn dropped to one knee, and fished an engagement ring, Lorena's ring, from his pocket.

Amy squealed. Lucy froze.

“Lucy. Marry me?”

Lucy nodded. Her head bobbing furiously. “Yes. Of course, yes.” Amy and Agent Christopher applauded as Flynn got to his feet, and kissed Lucy with everything he had.

Amy laughed. “Okay, maybe I have missed a lot.”

“More than you can possibly know,” Lucy told her.

Flynn added, “We'll catch you up over lunch, my treat.”

“I take it that somehow this means both of you got everything you wanted, and I can go home to Michelle?” asked Agent Christopher.

Lucy nodded again. “Everything and more.”

“We can see that,” Amy said, her tone dripping with suggestion.

“Amy, what do you say we give the lovebirds a minute?” Agent Christopher suggested, before smiling at Flynn and Lucy.

“Let's,” Amy agreed. “But don't take too long. I'm starving.”

Agent Christopher and Amy filed out. Lucy watched them go, her posture tense and her eyes wide, fearful.

“Amy will still be there,” he promised, understanding at once. He wrapped one arm around Lucy. The other saluted the Lifeboat. “No more time travel.”

Lucy looked down at her hand. The beloved ring sparkled up at her. “On to a bigger adventure.”

“And hopefully better.”

“It will be,” she agreed.

The sound of stomping feet echoed from the corridor and across the bunker. “You guys!” called an impatient Amy. “Come on already! You can make out in the car.”

Flynn laughed, and Lucy joined him, her hand in his as they stepped out to greet their complicated, messy, wonderful new life together.

“Merry Christmas, Lucy Preston.”

“Merry Christmas, Garcia Flynn.”

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to starfishstar who betaed this for me!


End file.
